


Christmas Eve on Chorus

by AgentBuzzkill



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Christmas Feels, Gen, Red team feels, also first rvb fic yaaaay, feels all around, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentBuzzkill/pseuds/AgentBuzzkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Dexter Grif, the days on Chorus are awful.</p><p>They are full of stress and work and training and dealing with morons and all of the things he hates most. Plus the food here is terrible.</p><p>For Dexter Grif, the days on Chorus are awful. And the nights are hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve on Chorus

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third gift to awake-atnight for the Rooster Teeth secret santa! My prompt was for Christmas on Chorus, Donut Wash and Sarge have not been rescued yet. This is very Red Team-centric, with plenty of feels. I hope you enjoy!

For Dexter Grif, the days on Chorus are awful.

They are full of stress and work and training and dealing with morons and all of the things he hates most. Plus the food here is terrible.

For Dexter Grif, the days on Chorus are awful. And the nights are hell.

They are full of tossing and turning on a mattress that feels like it's full of rocks. They are full of being too hot and too cold and the constant stream of thoughts, the inability to get his mind to shut up. The could haves and should haves and would haves are more prevalent in the silence.

So when there is a knock on his door, he immediately answers. Anything to avoid the silence. When Simmons is on the other side, he almost shuts the door. But then he sees his face and stops.

If sleep deprivation is a bit obvious in Grif's tired eyes and short temper, it is glaringly obvious in everything about Simmons. There are deep shadows under his eyes, a slouch in his posture that had slowly been developing over the last few weeks. There is the faint whirring of his (and Grif never knew quite how to phrase what they are) more mechanical parts, a constant reminder of what had led up to the machines becoming a part of his body. Everything about Simmons exudes exhaustion, and when he looks at Girf with those tired eyes and mutters "Can I come in?" Grif immediately steps to the side with a nod.

"Yeah," he replies gruffly, clearing his throat with a cough before continuing. "Can't sleep anyway."

"You too?" Simmons sits down on Grif's bed, looking out the one window the small room has at the low moonlight.

"Yeah." Grif sits next to Simmons, hands in his lap, fingers lacing together. It's still odd sometimes, seeing his hand and what had once been Simmonss' hand together on the same body. But he'd mostly gotten used to it.

They sit in silence for awhile, before Grif speaks up.

"So why are you here? Not that I mind, but this isn't usually a social time of the day."

"No time of the day is social for you," Simmons scoffs with a smile. Grif nearly returns the smile before his expression sobers when Simmons adds: "It's Christmas Eve."

Grif looks up and meets his eyes. They both know what Christmas had once entailed, Grif singing carols off-key and putting tinsel in odd places, Donut baking and decorating whatever surface could be decorated in the Red Team base, and Simmons pretending to follow along with Sarge's general bah humbug attitude, while secretly stealing cookies and maybe humming along to a carol or two.

Christmas had once been fun for them.

"I-I didn't get you anything," Grif finds himself saying, solely for the sake of saying something.

Simmons chuckles, but his smile doesn't touch his eyes. "You've never gotten me anything. Not for Christmas, at least."

"Yeah, well," Grif struggles with the words. "I should have. I should have gotten you all something."

Simmons sighs. "You shouldn't talk like that. We...We will find them," he says quietly.

"You're damn right we will!" Grif suddenly yells, startling Simmons. "We'll find them and fucking kick them in the dicks for worrying us and then we'll drag them back to that dumb base in that hot as dicks box canyon and have the best Christmas of our lives!"

Simmons laughs, and Grif can see an actual happiness behind his smile. "Sarge will just have to deal with it, I guess."

"Yeah, he will. Because we will have saved his ass. He'll owe us at least twenty awesome Christmases."

"You think?"

"I know," Grif insists.

They sit in silence for a few moments, before Simmons chuckles and stands.

"Wha- Where are you going?" Grif asks, looking up at him.

"Back to my room?" Simmons looks confused. "Unless a Christmas sleepover was in your plans for tonight."

Grif rolls his eyes. "I'm just wondering why you came here in the first place."

Simmons shrugs, opening the door. "Just to wish you Merry Christmas I guess. And to make sure you weren't giving up on them."

"Of course not," Grif replies. "Never."

"Good. We need hope." Simmons steps out into the hall. "Merry Christmas, Grif."

Before he can reply, the door is shut. Grif sighs to himself and crawls back under the covers. Sleep comes just a bit easier that night.

And if he leaves a note on Simmonss' door the next morning that says "Merry Christmas, Dumbass," well, it's the holidays. He's just trying to spread some cheer.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also my first Red vs. Blue fic ever, so comments and criticisms would be great! Thank you for reading!


End file.
